


Revisit the Present

by Highlander_II



Series: kink_bingo: 2011 [30]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: Alternate Universe, Chromatic Character, Community: kink_bingo, Dominant Carlos Ramirez, Emotion Play, M/M, Submissive Harry Dresden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-16
Updated: 2011-09-16
Packaged: 2017-10-23 19:05:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Highlander_II/pseuds/Highlander_II
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of an AU series in progress where Harry Dresden isn't a private investigator. Carlos pushes Harry through admitting some things to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revisit the Present

Riding a zombie dinosaur is fun and all, but it can take a lot out of you. Same for gut wounds. All in all, it took a couple weeks for me to get back to normal. Mostly normal. Physically, I was fine. Emotionally, psychologically, I was a mess.

I didn't realize how much help I needed until Ramirez stopped by one day with some amazing smelling food. It wasn't the food that turned me around, it was something during our conversation. Ramirez knew I was submissive - we'd played a couple times in the past - what he didn't realize was how much I needed dominance to deal with the stuff in my head. Not just relaxing under the control, but being made to talk about what's bothering me.

Somehow, he figured out that nothing was going to be extracted via typical conversational means. Probably from my avoidance of any topics related to the Darkhallow. Further by my deflection of any of his attempts to go here. I didn't want to talk about it.

"Harry, get on your knees," Ramirez commanded, rising from his seat on the couch.

I blinked in utter astonishment at him until my brain parsed through what he had said. I didn't have to do anything. I could have used a safe-word. At that point, I could have just said 'no'. Instead, I slid to the floor, settled on my knees and lowered my head toward my chest. An immediate sense of calm washed over me. I focused on my breathing and the feel of the area rugs pressing into my knees. I was straddling the edge of one of the rugs and the textures were minutely different, even through my threadbare jeans.

"Harry," Ramirez spoke firmly but quietly, "we're going to play a scene. Perform well and you will be rewarded. Do you understand?"

I nodded. "Yes sir," I responded politely.

He moved smoothly to stand directly in front of me. He instructed me to remove my clothing and return to kneeling. Once I was finished he asked, "What position is most comfortable for you for spanking, Harry?" He asked, hands resting at the small of his back by the way the shadows of his elbows fell across the floor.

I had to think about that for a moment. The usual positions were 'bent over a spanking horse' or 'folded across a lap'. There was also the classic 'hands and knees' - my preferred. But that wasn't the question. He asked what was most comfortable. "Across a spanking bench, sir," I responded. "But I don't have one here."

"Then we'll have to make do. Will you be fine on hands and knees?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Ramirez took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Assume the position, Harry."

I raised my hips and put my hands on the floor. The position is incredibly vulnerable. For wizards as well as humans. It's difficult to move and react quickly from that position. That's sort of the point. 'What makes it appealing. Sexy.

I felt Ramirez' fingers graze over my skin, tracing the ridges of my spine. He stroked his hand over the curve of my ass. Then he slapped it with a firm open palm.

I cried out in surprise and glared over my shoulder at him. I had been expecting some warning before he started. Obviously he hadn't.

"Eyes front, Harry," he said. When I turned back to the proper position, he slapped the other cheek. "Now, I'm going to ask you questions. Answer to my satisfaction and I won't have to spank you."

Where was the fun in that? I like being sparked. He knew that. This was about to get interesting.

Ramirez let its fingers rest against my skin. "What happened before we rode to the Darkhallow?"

"Corpsetaker switched bodies with Luccio," I answered.

He slapped my ass hard.

"I shot Luccio's body," I added.

He slapped again.

What did he want? That's what happened. I realized Luccio wasn't Luccio and I shot her.

"What were you feeling when you shot her?" he prompted.

Shit. That's what he was going for. He wanted me to talk about all the stuff I'd shoved into a closet in my head. The bastard.

I took a couple deep breaths. "Angry," I spat. "I was angry."

"At whom?"

"The Council. The Corpsetaker. Morgan. Myself," I grunted in quick succession.

Ramirez swatted my ass again. I almost snarled at him out of reflex. "Why were you angry with the Council?"

I sighed heavily. My arms almost folded. "I was so tired of them treating me like a ticking time-bomb."

"Are you a time-bomb, Harry?"

I shook my head. I could feel tears prick my eyes. "I might be," I muttered.

This time he didn't hit me. Instead, he asked, "Does that scare you, Harry?"

My head fell forward. My arms all but collapsed and those tears began to fall. I couldn't answer his question. I couldn't push words through my chest into the open air.

Ramirez knelt beside me, one hand brushing through my hair. I felt his breath on my face. 'Heard his voice whisper in my ear. "Harry?" he said. "Harry, come back. You're okay."

I'm not sure I heard him at all. Not then. Not until he folded his arms around me. 'Curled my body against his. He let me lean against him for a long time, stroking my back, kissing my hair, feeling my tears on his chest beneath his open shirt.

He had pushed me. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough. Just enough. I wouldn't realize how much it had helped me until later. 'After I'd cried and cried and let him hold me and touch me and kiss me.

I'm sure we sat on the floor for a good hour. And it was a _good_ hour. By the end of it, I felt a lot better than I had before it. And though I wanted to hate Ramirez for what he'd done, I couldn't. He hadn't done anything wrong

I knew I hated that the White Council seemed to think one day I would turn Warlock and rail against the Council. I was pretty sure I wouldn't do that. Not any time soon. 'Not without provocation. But I couldn't guarantee it would never happen. No one could.

What I didn't know was that the potential for me to turn to the dark side scared the hell out of me. Rather, I knew it, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. That's what Ramirez did. He got me to admit it. But boy was it rough.

Facing down my own fear of myself, even for just a moment, was far more difficult than any monster I'd faced in the past. I think Ramirez understood that and that's why he pushed the scene the way he had. He knew exactly what he was doing.

That's how we got started with our more permanent arrangement. For about a week, he came by every night and we would go through something. Emotions, thoughts, wants, desires. Not everything was as intense as that first night. But all of it was helpful in pushing my stubborn mind through things it needed to get through.

The next week wasn't focused as much on emotional work as with straight mental work. Focus. It was pretty rigorous, but it was good quality time with an amazing friend.

I didn't realize it until the day he showed up at my apartment with a bag slung over his shoulder that he had been training and conditioning me. Readying me for him to request a less casual arrangement between us.

He wasn't quite ready to offer a permanent collar, but he did want to arrange dates and times for us to play together. Most of them away from the club. What surprised me the most, I think, was the utter lack of jealousy or request that I stop working in the club. Yes, I was confused, but I was glad he didn't want me to quit my job. It pays the rent.


End file.
